


Following My Footsteps Home

by anyothergirl415



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Season 5 Spoilers, Season 6 Spoilers, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-26
Updated: 2010-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2014 Dean lost his life at the heel of Lucifer’s finely polished shoes. Then he woke up in a world where there was another, prettier him and a Sam with that same smile he’d once loved and lost. Somehow, they had to make it work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing he remembered when his eyes opened was Sam. His Sam. The boy he’d raised almost as his own, who he laughed with, spent countless hours driving with, hunted monsters with. The boy he’d loved and trusted and spent years depending on. But Dean didn’t remember all those things. He remembered _his_ Sam donned all in white, with a sneer or a smirk – it was impossible to tell the difference.

It was only a flash of time. Dean had trained for five years for that moment, trained to try and kill Lucifer and his brother in the process. Hell, Dean had trained himself to stop thinking of Sam as his brother but the moment he saw him, it all came slamming back.

Breakfasts in countless motel rooms, fighting over who got the toy at the bottom of the box. And nights, so many nights curled up against Sam’s side to soothe away the nightmares. How could he possibly kill him?

As it turned out, he couldn’t but Sam held none of those reservations.

Though really, it wasn’t Sam anymore. No, Dean had told himself so many times that his brother was dead and he had to stick with that. It didn’t make it any easier though.

So Lucifer had killed him.

Which didn’t explain how Dean had ended up here. A hospital room, hooked up to machines that beeped and pulsed, measuring his life. Dean had been in hospital rooms before – too many for his liking – but it had been years since he’d last seen one actually functioning. The virus spread too quickly for that.

Dean was no longer the type to panic.

This situation was unreal, if this was Heaven why would Dean be in a hospital? If this was Hell… well, it couldn’t be - Dean had been there and he knew how it felt, both on Earth and down below. But here Dean could hear voices and soft laughter and the murmur from a TV. God, how long had it been since he saw an actual working TV?

Dean didn’t want to wait long enough to find out what sort of game this was. So he yanked the IVs from his arms and the heart monitor off his chest and slid out of bed. His clothes were lying on a chair across the room and Dean rushed to them, stepping into worn jeans and a thin T-shirt. There was no sign of his coat; Dean hesitated at that before shaking his head and forcing himself forward.

The machine was beeping rapidly; clearly alarming the nurses of the lack of a body it was monitoring and Dean knew his time was limited. So Dean did what he knew how to do; he took off at a run down the hall for the nearest Exit sign. He was fairly certain he knocked a few people down in the process – and they weren’t chasing him yet so that was maybe a good sign – but there was no part of Dean ready to spend any further time in a hospital, open and exposed.

The Exit door opened to a back alley covered with shade from the high building and Dean ran into the railing, staring down at the dark pavement. He could hear shouts coming from the hallway he’d just exited and Dean wet his lips, tapped into the adrenaline rushing through him and grabbed the railing. He jumped, legs swinging over the old rusted metal, air rushing around him as he fell the three stories down into a large pile of black bags filling up a dumpster.

For a moment Dean stared up at the bright blue sky and soaked in the biting pain of his landing on who-knew-what garbage. Then the door from up above was creaking open and Dean was on the move again, pushing out of the dumpster and landing hard on the pavement. Dean’s heart was racing, his head hurt, his body ached but he ran out of the alley and down the street.

Dean didn’t stop until he’d rounded the corner and nearly ran right into a crowd of little kids all wearing matching Boy Scout outfits. “Jesus,” Dean whispered, blinking rapidly down at the kids who were staring up at him with something close to shock and confusion. He couldn’t even imagine what he must look like – wild hair, wild eyes, and clothes in disarray. But it was more than that; Dean couldn’t remember when he’d last seen so many kids in one place.

Well, that wasn’t true. He did remember. It had been late 2013 when Rick and he had found a herd of Croatoan-infected children feeding off a man in a grocery store. The thought alone had Dean stepping back from the children, ignoring their leader’s careful, “Sir? Are you alright?”

Once more Dean was off down the sidewalk. Now he was weaving through people, running across the street and narrowly avoiding getting hit by cars. What the fuck was this? How was everyone alive? Where was the decaying scent of flesh and the echoing call of screams that had made up the default background for the last few years?

Dean was fairly certain no one was chasing him any longer but he couldn’t stop running, he couldn’t risk reality catching up with him. He ran until the buildings had faded into houses and the houses were threatening to fade into cornfields and miles of nothing. This wasn’t like his world; he couldn’t just break into someone’s house and set up camp. There were _people_ here, real ones that weren’t like zombies that he could just unload a bullet straight through the temple.

Assuming he had a gun, which he didn’t.

So, he leapt over a fence and tucked into a narrow strip between the fence and a tool shed. He would be out of sight until the sun set. Then… Dean wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d wake up from this dream. Maybe he’d wake up in Hell and this was a new brand of torture. Maybe he wouldn’t wake up at all.

-=-=-=-

It didn’t occur to Dean until after he’d stolen the car and began driving that being here meant he wasn’t the only Dean in this time. The newspaper in the driveway of the house he’d gotten the car from had said it was October 8th, 2014. His time, but their world and apparently it hadn’t ended. Dean had a thousand questions and very little hope for getting any real answers from a single person he might trust.

It had been a long time since Dean trusted anyone at all.

He stole gas from a station in the middle of nowhere and it was easy enough, heading inside and knocking out the cashier with a quick slam against the wall. It was easy not to feel guilt as he flipped the switch to unlock the gas and filled a bag with pre-made sandwiches, sodas, and as many individually wrapped pastries as he could fit. Little luxuries Dean had missed but tried not to think about in the last five years.

There was the faintest nag of guilt though when he broke into the cash register and stole a handful of bills. Dean hadn’t really ever been the type to steal but he had learned to push away guilt so he got over it.

Quite possibly there was only one place that Dean could go. Not knowing how the world was now, he was constantly looking over his shoulder as he drove, waiting for the next ball to drop. Dean wondered if this was some sort of game, if the angels had suddenly decided to mess with him once more. He had thought they’d gone radio silent for good but maybe, just maybe…

“Cas?” Dean said when he finally realized he knew someone that might be nearer than his destination. His eyes flickered from the road up to the roof of his car and back. “Castiel? Uh, it’s Dean, and I… look Cas, put down the joint and come tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Actually, Dean wasn’t sure if the Castiel in this world would smoke pot. Probably unlikely if he was an angel again and if he wasn’t, calling out to him was pointless.

Whether Castiel was an angel or not remained a mystery to Dean because there was no sign of him. So Dean decided to list the facts he knew.

If this was real - highly unlikely but whatever - the year was 2014. There were clearly no people affected by the virus which meant Lucifer hadn't won. Did that mean the Sam and Dean of this world stopped him? Had he been brought here to stop something? Or start something?

"Fuck." Dean slammed his palm hard against the steering wheel. There were so many questions; his head hurt and all he could do was keep driving because he didn't even know if there was any place truly safe to stop.

-=-=-=-

It was shortly after dawn when Dean pulled into the junkyard, his shoulders tense as he looked around at the heaps of metal. There was seemingly nothing out of place, nothing that suggested he was going to be forced to fight a clearly uneven battle. Bobby’s truck was in front of his house as it had been and Dean found his heart tightening painfully.

What if Bobby really was alive? God, it had been so long. There was so much Dean hadn’t had a chance to tell Bobby before the Croates got to him.

Dean stared out the windshield at the front door of the rundown house until his eyes grew dry from his lack of blinking. Then with a deep breath he opened the driver’s side door and climbed out, straightening up and stretching out his back. He needed a strong cup of coffee, the bathroom, three days worth of sleep and some answers – not at all in that order – and if Bobby wasn’t around he wasn’t completely certain what he would do.

The screen door squeaked as it opened though and Bobby stepped out on the front porch, face drawn together in that always slightly worn and annoyed expression Bobby carried. _Walking_. Dean could hardly believe it. Last he’d seen Bobby, the man was wheelchair bound and none too happy about it.

Dean could only stare as Bobby stared back at him, glancing at the car once then clearing his throat.

“Dean? What happened? You get in a fight with Sam?” Bobby’s voice was deep and gravely as usual and it was familiar to Dean, straight out of a haunting dream in which Dean hadn’t been fast enough to save his father figure.

Fight with Sam? That meant the Dean of this world was still hunting with Sam. At least that was something positive; Dean had often wondered how things would have changed if he’d said yes to Sam all those years ago when he called and asked to come back. Apparently this Dean had said yes.

And what if he’d taken the place of the Dean in this world? Where would Sam be now?

“Dean? Boy? You feelin’ alright?” Bobby’s lips turned down in a deeper frown as he stopped before Dean, eyeing him uncertainly.

“Uh, yeah, Bobby just- been a long day.” Dean shrugged and stuffed his hand in his pockets. He wished he had a coat; he felt like he stood out more without one, like Bobby would know something was up.

“It’s eight in the mornin’, son.” Bobby’s expression instantly darkened with concern and even though Dean had known that fact, it felt like he was simply grasping at straws now.

“Right. You know, been a long night. Been drivin’ a lot.” Something clattered behind him and five years of sharp trained instinct had him spinning, narrowing his eyes off at the distance. When he deemedthat there was a lack of threat he turned back, blinking at Bobby who was staring with that same concerned look. “Could we go inside?”

“Sure, come on in.” Bobby nodded slowly and gestured toward Dean, letting him lead the way.

The house was exactly as Dean remembered it, organized chaos, and it was such a _relief_ to be somewhere familiar that Dean’s knees felt momentarily weak. This was too much for his mind - at some point he was going to snap.

As he stepped into the kitchen, eyes moving over the random dishes, the skillet of eggs, Dean turned to say something to Bobby. But the words were cut off sharp by the sudden frying pan that slammed into the side of his head and everything went dark.

-=-=-=-

Tight binds constricted Dean, pressing painful across his chest, over his arms, around his legs. Dean blinked his eyes open, wondering at the dampness on his face and clothing, and slowly looked around the room. It was Bobby’s panic room and Dean was tied to a chair; things weren’t looking so good for him at the moment.

The loud metal clank across the room caught Dean's attention and he turned his head, peering at the opening. "Oh come on Bobby. It's me. Just, let me explain. Or give me some fucking Advil, you dick."

It really hadn't been necessary for Bobby to whack him so hard and with a frying pan of all things. But it did bring up a few more questions. If the Dean of this world was alive, why would Bobby attack him? Had he said something that let it slip? Maybe it was the car, or the missing leather coat. Dean couldn't imagine that he'd grown his hair out or something.

Dean was given far too much time to think in the panic room. Each time he closed his eyes he saw flashes of those infected, or of his brother in white, curling hands tight around his neck. He could hear occasional footsteps overhead but the door remained closed and Dean was still bound.

So he had no way of knowing how much time had passed when it finally opened, outside of knowing he was moments away from wetting himself and the sandpapery rasp in his mouth.

Dean expected Bobby to come in, maybe dump some salt down his throat. When Sam stepped before him, however, instinct had him flinching back. What if this was merely one of Lucifer's games? And now Dean had walked right into the trap.

"Dean?" Sam frowned, looking past Dean to a place he couldn't see. "He walked right in, Bobby?"

"Yeah, right through the devils traps, too. Holy water did nothing.” Bobby’s gruff voice echoed across the room but no amount of turning could line the man up in Dean’s sight.

There was no choice but to look forward at his brother. Not his brother. No, this was Sam but it wasn’t _his_ Sam. This Sam belonged to a different Dean who didn’t appear to be here anymore. “Look, I know this is crazy-“ Dean began but Bobby cut him off sharply with growled words.

“Shut it boy, we don’t need any lies from you.”

"Hold on Bobby, let's hear him out." Sam held out a hand and Dean had to admit he was a little surprised that Bobby just went along with it.

Then again, this Sam was five years older than his Sam and maybe he'd done some things Dean didn't want to imagine. Taking a deep breath, Dean tried again. "I just woke up in the hospital two days ago, I think. Fuck. Last I saw you Sam, Lucifer had made you his dress up doll and you killed-" It was a little annoying that he couldn't get that much out without succumbing to emotion.

Dean thought he was past all that.

"That doesn't make sense," Sam said quietly but not like he didn't believe Dean, more like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. Dean felt the familiarity of that like a knife in his heart and he had to look away from Sam to save his sanity. “What else do you remember?”

Sam wasn't looking at him like he was mad or wary- no, he was looking at him like he just somehow knew that Dean was who he said he was. Somehow that was worse and Dean looked away because he couldn't take the not-so-hidden love in Sam's eyes. "Croates. The apocalypse. Death."

When Sam said nothing Dean sighed, annoyed. He didn't feel much like giving a history 101 lesson but since neither Bobby or Sam appeared to know what he was talking about, there wasn't much of an option. "In 2009 we, no, Sam and I split ways. I didn't see him again until a couple of days ago."

Or, until now but Dean couldn't really think that way. "At some point he said yes to Lucifer." Dean paused at Sam's sharp inhale and finally looked towards his brother - but not his brother - once more.

"And that triggered the apocalypse," Sam stated a little shakily, looking past Dean toward Bobby.

"Well it sure as hell didn't bring rainbows and puppy dogs," Dean muttered, maybe a little bitterly but who could blame him?

Sam chose to gloss right past the sarcasm which was like him, really. "Okay, so when you saw me a couple of days ago it wasn't really..."

"Wasn't you. I told myself you died the minute I learned you said yes so how the fuck this is happening, I have no fucking clue." Dean couldn't help being agitated; being tied to a chair in a world that wasn't his was bound to do that to a person. "Lucifer turned the world into a B horror movie all because you gave in."

The scandalized look on Sam's face was also familiar but as his mouth opened another, equally familiar voice rang through the room. "Alright, enough of this."

It was impossible to accurately describe the difference between seeing yourself in the mirror and seeing yourself, live in the flesh, dressed in a dark green button down shirt and tan pants. _Fucking khakis._ And they thought he was the impostor. Dean stared at Dean, hair just a little longer, skin a little fairer. Just, what the fuck?

"What the fuck?" he asked aloud out of shock. Not because there were two of him - weirder things had happened - but because of his appearance. "Gay much?"

Gay Dean - or pussy Dean, he hadn't settled on a nickname just yet - rolled his eyes then shook his head. "This is pretty easily settled. When I was nineteen I saw something that I still use occasionally to get myself off. What was it?"

Just like that Dean was picturing being nineteen, seeing the old house they were renting with the pale green walls and the porch swing out front. And coming home from the garage early only to stop at the bedroom at the sound of a moan. He'd barely pushed the door open and there was Sam, jeans open, hand stroking over his hard dick, hips arching up with each glide.

If Dean didn't have to pee so badly he'd be hard in his jeans just thinking about it. His other self was crazy though if he thought Dean was going to admit that out loud. So he glared at the smug smile and shook his head. "This is because I called you gay, huh? Guess I always had a pretty-boy complex."

Surprisingly, Sam laughed and clapped his real brother on the shoulder. "Looks like this Dean is more self aware."

Even more surprisingly, Dean didn't shoot Sam the annoyed look he was expecting. Instead his mirrored self was laughing too, and nodding. "Apparently in some ways. Just tell me who, dude."

"You fucking know who," Dean snapped, more than a little tired of being the one who had to spill his guts when all he wanted was some answers. And to be free of his binds.

Fancied up, long haired Dean stepped toward him and bent at the waist, pressing his hands into his legs just above his knees. There was a smile on his face but it was that one Dean always got when nothing at all was funny, he just wanted to creep his captive out with the evil glint in his eye. Theoretically, it shouldn’t have worked on Dean; after all he was a master of the look, but it had him squirming within moments.

“Why don’t you just tell me nice and quiet-like, then we’ll know if you are who you want us to believe you are. ‘Cause I tell you what, I’ve never had an Olsen twin complex, and I don’t need you to be the Ashley to my Mary Kate.”

This was Dean’s way of saying he wouldn’t hesitate to let Bobby off him if he turned out to be an imposter. It was amazing how serious a threat could sound when you knew a person well enough to know they weren’t bluffing. It would probably be easier for this Dean to get rid of him _because_ he had no interest to have an identical copy of himself running around.

“Sam,” Dean managed to whisper, struggling against the ropes across his chest to try and get closer. “It was Sam, getting off.”

"See Sam, I told you." Dean straightened up and turned to his brother, satisfied grin on his face and wait, what?

"Huh. And I really thought you were just making me feel better about the whole thing." Sam shrugged and crossed the room, snatching up a knife on the floor. "Well, cut him loose. He looks awful."

"Gee, thanks," Dean said at the exact moment the other Dean said it and yes, it was a little disturbing.

Sam's eyes widened for a moment before he laughed and shook his head. "This is going to be interesting."

As Dean cut him loose, he considered making a grab for the knife because it was starting to feel like he wasn't the impostor but rather they were. It seemed the other Dean knew what he was thinking though, because the moment he’d cut Dean free, he was stepping back and closing the pocket knife. “Bathroom or food first?”

It wasn’t really a pleasant experience to have someone there who knew exactly how his mind worked because he _had_ his own mind. Dean swallowed thickly and rubbed at his arms where the rope had dug into his skin. “Bathroom, then answers.”

“Bathroom, then food,” Sam corrected, soft smile on his face. “You look like you’re about ready to pass out.”

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s – not his brother – overbearing concern. This was going to take some real adjusting. And maybe a large bottle of whiskey. He turned and was surprised to find Bobby still there, looking at least mildly apologetic. How was it that Bobby was alright finding out that Dean used the image of his baby brother to get off from time to time?

“Sorry about that kid, just don’t get a lot of clones turning up on my doorstep.” Bobby shrugged and led the way out of the panic room, not giving Dean much of a choice but to follow.

Using the bathroom turned into taking a shower because Dean wasn’t really looking forward to the conversation ahead. He had a thousand questions and he suspected that his other self and other brother would feel the same so stalling seemed like the best option.

Dean could barely remember the last time he had a real shower with running hot water to use and he took too long standing under the spray. He thought about the Sam downstairs, how long his hair had gotten – almost to his shoulders but still smooth and golden, his body still shaped and curved with muscle but looser, like he didn’t work out every single day. He was gorgeous really and there was a happy glow about him that Dean hadn’t ever seen before.

When his body started reacting to the mental images he was drawing up Dean did what was natural and tried not to put too much stock into it. Yeah, he had gotten off to the image of Sam before, his Sam. Maybe that was part of the reason they’d fallen apart in the end, because Dean carried that secret and nothing could get him to admit it.

Clean and relieved of some of the immediate tension pressing in on him, Dean stepped out of the shower and was mildly surprised to find a clean outfit resting on the sink. He must be more out of it than he realized because he didn't even hear the door open.

The clothes were sweats and the smell was his own, leaving Dean to wonder why his other self was carrying them around. They'd shown up too quickly to have been on a hunt, because anything nearby Bobby would surely have handled.

Once he was dressed he faced the options of going downstairs or just crashing in one of the guest rooms. His growling stomach made the decision for him, however, and Dean braced himself for the inevitable barrage of questions that would follow.

The three men were in the kitchen, quietly discussing the situation when Dean entered. As he cleared his throat they abruptly stopped and looked toward him. "No need to shut up on my account. Not like I don't know you're talking about me."

The silence lingered for a moment until Sam stepped forward, smiling that same soft smile. "You hungry? I can whip you up something."

Maybe if this wasn't such a weird situation, if Dean wasn't a stranger to this version of Sam, he might have teased him about not wanting a salad or anything with the word _wrap_ in it. Since it was those things, weird and awkward, Dean just nodded.

"So," across from him the other Dean drummed his fingers on the table as he began to speak, "I guess the real question now is what do we do with you?"

"Yeah? You don't think we should figure out why I'm here? Or, I don't know, how I got here maybe?" Dean shot back with thick sarcasm that the other Dean had to know well.

“Well, that will only get us so far,” Sam pointed out, coming up to the table a few moments later with a sandwich and chips for Dean. “Don’t you know Dean, that sometimes you just have to roll with the punches? I would think you of all people would understand that. We could spend years researching what brought you here but we’ll still have to know what to do with you while you’re here.”

Dean pursed his lips and stared down at the sandwich, his appetite all but gone. “So what? You gonna chain me up in the panic room until you figure out if there’s any moral code to killing someone who happens to be the duplicate of your brother?”

It was quiet in the room for a long time and Dean was surprised because he knew these people, kind of - they shouldn’t be silent. They all had to have opinions about this, but it didn’t even look like the other Dean was holding back. It was like Dean had said some magic word that had taken away all their voices.

It was Sam who spoke up again, after Dean had polished off his sandwich and chips and soda. Dean wondered if that was normal, Sam taking on a bigger role in the decision making process but he wasn’t going to ask. “Well, you’ll come with us.”

“Now Sam, I’m not sure-”

“No,” Dean interrupted Bobby, turning his gaze toward the man then back to his mirror image. “Sam’s right. He’ll come with us. We’re not just going to pawn him off on you.”

“But you two are-”

“Bobby, it’s fine.” Sam was the one to interrupt Bobby this time and he smiled toward them and then back at Dean. “We’ve got a room for you.”

“A room?” Dean’s eyebrows rose, another slew of questions slamming into his brain.

“Come on, I’ve got a shipment I need to go over before morning anyway. Bobby, we’ll keep you updated.” The other Dean stood and clapped his hands together once, a sure sign that the topic was done being discussed.

Now if only Dean could figure out what exactly was going on.

-=-=-=-

They rode in the Impala, which Dean was both stunned and pleased to see. His own baby had been broken for years, and Dean couldn’t help running his hands slowly over her hood, caressing the leather of the seat as he climbed in back. He was perfectly content to spend hours re-familiarizing himself with the dip of the seat and the gentle hum of the engine. So when Dean pulled over not fifteen minutes later and killed the engine, he couldn’t help frowning and looked out the window.

They had stopped in front of a shop, a display of books in the window, and when Dean climbed out his eyes lingered on the top sign. It said _Home Books_ and Dean blinked a few times, looking over at Sam and Dean - and he really needed to think of something else to call him because his head was starting to hurt. “Home Books?”

“Our shop,” Sam said with a smile, stepping back to let the other Dean unlock the shop. “See, a couple of years ago Lucifer rose, I made some stupid mistakes and things got pretty fucked up. But the short version? I let Lucifer take me then I jumped back into the cage. I got pulled out-”

“He lost his soul,” Dean interrupted, leading them inside the shop but stopping to lock the door behind them.

“Right, I lost my soul. But then we got my soul back. And I was bad for a while, worse than I’ve ever been. So we came and stayed with Bobby. Dean had to get work so he got a job here, and we just… never left.” Sam shrugged, leading Dean through the slightly cluttered store and through a back door. “There’s an apartment upstairs that we fixed up. Saves us rent.”

Dean felt like he was in some sort of daze as he followed Sam up the stairs. This couldn’t possibly be real. What the fuck was going on? How did he ever agree to settle down somewhere? Sam must have been _awful_ to make him be okay with that choice.

“You look completely shocked,” Sam said softly as they reached the top of the stairs and walked out into a living room/kitchen combo.

It was a quaint space with a large couch and matching chair, a flat screen TV and a book shelf. The pictures on the wall were older, paintings and art collections, one of Sam and Dean at the beach. Things were clean in a Winchester style, little bits of clutter on the coffee table and counters only making it feel more like a home they might have had.

If they had ever really had a home, which they hadn’t, and Dean really couldn’t wrap his mind about this. “I am a little shocked,” Dean admitted, glancing toward the stairs.

“He won’t come up. We have that order we got in, and he likes to go over the new orders, just to be sure we’ve got the most popular stuff. We’re the only book store in a hundred miles so we’ve got to have the best sellers,” Sam explained as he headed to the kitchen, tugging the fridge open. “Thirsty?”

What Dean wanted was a drink, as strong as possible, and to go to sleep so he could wake up from this world. He didn’t take one though, maybe because part of him wanted _this_ to be real. “I’m good,” he said quietly and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

This was his brother but he wasn’t and Dean wasn’t sure where to draw that line. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that he’d never resolved things with his own Sam, and he would always have that last image in his mind of cold eyes and a dark smile.

“I can’t imagine how hard this is on you,” Sam said softly and he crossed to Dean, a sad smile on his face. “You wanna tell me more about... your world?”

“You want to tell me how you can just go along with this? You should be freaking out, both you and him. Why are you so calm?” Dean shot back, stepping back from Sam, not really because he meant to but instinct had him moving.

Sam frowned and Dean tried to ignore the hurt expression on his face. “I did freak out some when Bobby first told us. And Dean did too, while you were in the shower, but you know what? I was possessed by Lucifer and I jumped into a hole in the middle of the Earth. Then Crowley pulled me out but left my soul behind until Dean played Death for half a day and got it back. You don’t live through something like that, not to mention all the other shit we’ve seen, and not grow a tolerance level for the unexplainable happening.”

“Yeah well, this is maybe just a little too unexplainable for me.” Dean rolled his eyes and scratched over his arm, annoyed that he was dressed in sweats that quite clearly must be Dean’s work-out clothes, considering he was no longer hunting. “How am I just- how is he okay with not hunting? I hunted even when the world was overrun with Croates, damnit. And why can’t you call Castiel? Couldn’t he help?”

Sam sighed and looked toward the stairs as if he was seriously considering calling the other Dean for support but he changed his mind and looked back to Dean instead. “Okay, first of all, Castiel hardly ever comes down here anymore. There was a big battle in Heaven and things got intense; he just doesn’t have the time to visit very often and we hardly call on him because of that. And second, I told you, I was really bad off and Dean needed money. By the time I got better it just made sense for us to stay.”

“So how long have you been here?” Dean resisted looking around because it was just a too-painful reminder of what they had and what he’d never had and it was unpleasant.

“Almost three years. Look, why don’t you get some sleep? You look exhausted and there’s not really anything we can do to make sense of things right now. Bobby’s going to look into it all - until then you can help us out.”

Sam’s hand came to rest on Dean’s shoulder and Dean couldn’t help staring up at him with wide eyes. “Are you and him- Dean- I mean, are you two... Nevermind.” Dean couldn’t get the words out because what would Sam say if they weren’t. Who the fuck asks those kind of questions, anyway?

“The guest bedroom is down the hall.” Sam pointed down the hallway, gratefully ignoring Dean’s fumbling half question. “You just sleep as long as you have to and if we’re asleep when you wake up, help yourself to some food.”

Dean nodded and stared at Sam a moment longer before turning and heading down the hall. His eyes slid over to the other bedroom as he passed and he almost kept walking until what he saw slammed into his body like an explosion of heat. His steps faltered and he stared in at the large, king-sized bed.

So, one bedroom, one guest room, no additional rooms and a large king-sized bed. Maybe the other Dean was sleeping in the guest room but he’d take the couch now. Or maybe... no. Dean really just, couldn’t go there.

Dean was exhausted so he chose to ignore the nicely decorated guest room and simply collapsed on the bed instead, toeing off his shoes and slipping under the blankets. When he woke up this was just going to be some really weird, really long dream.

-=-=-=-

It wasn't all that big of a surprise when Dean woke and it hadn't been a dream. He was still in the nicely decorated guest room and he laid there wondering just how many guests these boys had. Bobby was just around the corner - who else was there?

It was ten am according to the clock on the nightstand and Dean didn't bother trying to calculate how many hours he’d slept. He heard the faint sound of a buzzer from downstairs and the echo of footsteps. Dean didn't really want to get up and face this new world but his options seemed limited.

Finally rising, Dean walked slowly down the hall and out into the kitchen. There was no one around so Dean assumed that they were both busy downstairs and he was almost relieved to have some time awake by himself, just to get his mind wrapped around the enormity of this situation.

Sam had been right, there was no sense trying to piece together the _why_ or the _how_ of the situation, it was just learning to accept that it simply _was_. There was a newspaper on the table so Dean rooted around for a mug, fixing himself some coffee and toast before sitting in front of the paper. If he was going to be part of this world then he might as well know some of the facts.

It wasn’t much better than it had been before Lucifer had taken over. The economy was still crap, the gas prices were higher, Obama was President, though he hadn’t been for very long after the Croatian virus took hold. It was odd how _normal_ it all was. The sports section was creased, like one of the others had been checking sports scores, there was a movie circled with a little D and a question mark and Dean tried to imagine Sam picking out movies for them to go see.

Since the newspaper only made him feel weird Dean skipped the TV and headed for the master bedroom. He wasn’t spying, per say, more like _investigating_. It was similar to the master bedroom of any house he’d been in before, only back then he was observing for a case, and now he was trying to figure out how the carbon copy of himself and his brother lived their lives.

There was loose change on the dresser, a spare key to... something, a bottle of cologne - Sam’s, judging from the smell - and a framed picture of the both of them on a balcony of some building. Dean stared at it for a long time, trying to figure out if that could have been his smile, if he could have ever made Sam smile like that.

Dean wasn’t sure he could have.

Moving on from the dresser, Dean crossed to the closet and pulled it open. The collection of brightly colored shirts in front of him had to have been Sam’s and though he was glad to see a stray from the massive amounts of plaid his brother had tended to wear, this was a little odd. Dean slid over to the other side and tugged the door open, staring at the other Dean’s wardrobe.

None of the shirts were pink, at least, but there was certainly more color than Dean was used to. He frowned as he touched the softer shirts, none of them faded or torn from hunts, jeans crisp and new.

“What the fuck?” Dean whispered, still too shell-shocked to really process this.

“Oh come on, my taste in clothing isn’t that bad.”

It was his own voice that startled him and he turned, letting the silky green shirt drop from his fingers. “You own silk shirts.”

Dean laughed and shook his head, walking across to the dresser and pulling the bottom drawer open. “Here, black and cotton, should be no problem for you. Not sure about the jeans though, as I’m skinnier than you.”

Blinking a few times, he looked down at his own waist then looked back up. “Really? I’d say I just have more muscle. You’ve let yourself go.”

“No, I’m just more naturally toned now. I don’t know need to be massively muscular anymore.” The other Dean shrugged and tossed the shirt over, leaning back against the dresser. “Got some questions?”

“Where the fuck do I start?” Dean laughed shakily and pulled his shirt off, tugging on the other instead. “Well, I guess I started with this.” He waved his hand toward the bedroom, frowning.

“Yeah, Sam was thinking it might be easier if we talked about it without him around. He gets the feeling that you’re still seeing your Sam, as... well, you know.” The other Dean - who Dean officially decided to mentally refer to as De to save his sanity - walked across the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Lucifer?” Dean provided and tugged a pair of jeans from the hanger, considering whether it was weird to change in front of a guy who was basically himself. Deciding it wasn’t, he pushed his sweats off and stepped into the jeans.

“Right,” De nodded, his voice surprisingly soft as he likely tried to get past the mental image of Sam as Lucifer. Dean wondered what it had been like when he’d seen it, for just that little bit of time, and he figured it couldn’t have been much worse. “Anyway, Sam and I are together.”

“I gathered.” Dean nodded as well and turned to Sam, folding his arms over his chest and wishing desperately for one of his jackets. “How long?”

“About four years, officially. Started first when-” De sighed and shook his head, rubbing along his brow. “This is a long fucking story, you should probably sit down.”

And though Dean didn’t really want to follow his order, he did because he wanted to hear the story, he wanted to know how his other self somehow managed to get past the mind block of _wrong_.

The story was confusing, even with all the details. Apparently, when Sam had been without a soul he’d been cold and brutal, a perfect hunter but lacking all the qualities that made Sam, _Sam_. Once De had learned what Sam was missing - what had been left behind in Hell - of course he went on a search to make it better.

Before Sam’s soul had been returned though, Sam acted on one of those primal things his body had always wanted but his soul had kept him from having. And that turned out to be De. Soulless Sam had pushed and pushed until De had caved and taken him and when Sam had gotten his soul back, that never changed.

There was more to it - De spent quite a long time rationalizing their decision to stay a couple, to live in this place, to not hunt any more, but Dean didn’t really want to hear it. Not because he was angry, or pissed at De for making that choice, but maybe a little because he envied that this Dean got to have everything that he couldn’t and never would be allowed to have.

“So, that’s that. Sam and I are together and if it’s gonna bug you then you can get lost. I’m not giving up what I have with him for anyone.” De shrugged, sitting back against the headboard.

Dean swallowed thickly and rubbed along the back of his neck. He didn’t really have much of a choice did he? “It won’t bug me. I uh, I mean, I’m still you. Or you’re me. We’re- whatever. Look we both had the same feelings all our lives, you just get to have it. I’m not a big enough dick to take it away.”

“Good.” De nodded and pushed off the bed, rubbing his hands on his slacks - fucking _slacks_. “You want to come down to the shop?”

“No. I think I just, need some time.” Dean bit down on his lip for a moment then stood. “Tell Sam- just- I’m not gonna freak at him okay? I know he’s not Lucifer and he won’t be.”

“He was once. I think he gets why it bothers you so much.” De hesitated for a moment, then patted his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

What was there to figure out, really? Dean was here and that’s how it was going to be. Everything was just different now and Dean was going to have to learn to deal with that.

-=-=-=-

“I can’t call you both Dean,” Sam said at dinner - which was a weird event because they were all sitting at the diningroom table, eating a meal that Sam had cooked, like this was absolutely normal behavior.

“I’ve been calling him De in my head,” Dean offered, pointing his fork at the softer, mirror image of himself. “You know, the gay version of me.”

“Shut up asshole, I could easily kick your ass,” De snapped but then his hand slid back through his lengthy hair and well, he was kind of proving Dean’s point.

“I like De,” Sam chimed in, grinning at them both. “Though I think if we introduce him to people in the store he should have a different name. He, being Dean. Oh see, this can get so confusing.”

Dean groaned and rubbed at his forehead. “Just introduce me as Dean’s twin brother Marcus or something.”

“Marcus?” De’s brows rose and he shook his head. “Fuck no, you don’t look like a Marcus. _I_ don’t look like a Marcus.”

“Fine, Andrew then,” Dean suggested, resisting the urge to moan at the taste of lemon chicken. Who knew Sam was such a good cook?

“No, that’s not right.” Sam shook his head and spoke up through a mouthful of rice. “Nick?”

“God no,” De huffed and dropped his fork. “Bradly?”

Dean and Sam stared at De with wide eyes for a long moment then they were all laughing. And even if it was just the end of their first day together, Dean felt a little more settled. Maybe because they were accepting him like he was just another brother - another Adam or something - or maybe because he _was_ one of them. Whatever it was, Dean was willing to take it, because he had a feeling he’d be stuck here for a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In 2014 Dean lost his life at the heel of Lucifer’s finely polished shoes. Then he woke up in a world where there was another, prettier him and a Sam with that same smile he’d once loved and lost. Somehow, they had to make it work.

Once they settled the little details - like that Dean would be introduced as De’s twin brother James, and in their home he’d be Dean with the other Dean as De - things seemed to get a little easier. Sam and he went shopping for clothes during his second day and Dean made a point of picking out outfits as far from De’s as he could. He also took the time to hear Sam’s side of the story about how things ended up happening with De and himself, and it was a little unnerving to hear how strong Sam’s devotion for De really was.

Just like it was occasionally unnerving to see how happy the two were together. Dean didn’t really encounter it much until the third evening. He’d assumed that De and Sam were just not openly affectionate, because they both knew he was okay with them, and yet they still hadn’t acted like a couple.

That third night though he came out of the guest room he’d claimed as his own after a shower, ready to watch one of the countless movies they insisted he had to see, only to stop just at the edge of the hallway when his eyes fixed on the boys.

They were on the couch, Sam leaning back against the arm and De was resting on top of him. Their kisses were slow and drawn out, lazy, as if they had all the time in the world to explore each other’s mouths. Sam’s hand was carded up into De’s hair and Dean suddenly understood why he’d grown it out. Sam’s other hand was pushing up under De’s shirt, slowly running up, then back down.

Dean’s mouth was dry and he couldn’t look away. There was no way to explain how strange it was to watch them, because it was like seeing himself with his brother as live action porn and no amount of _trying_ made it easier to process. It wasn’t gross, it didn’t creep him out, but there was a curl of something painful in his chest and Dean thought it might be envy, or maybe sadness, or maybe loneliness. It was hard to name feelings he’d been shutting off for five years until now.

His thoughts were interrupted by Sam’s soft laugh. Dean couldn’t hear what was being said between them, just the soft low murmur of voices, and when Sam laughed again he stepped back. It wasn’t right to spy on their private moment together; Dean figured that just by living there he was already putting a huge damper on their relationship.

“Dean, you gonna come out here and watch the movie?” Sam called out, clearly unaware that Dean was standing just out of view in the hallway.

Dean leaned against the wall for a few moments before inhaling deeply and pushing forward. When he stepped out into the living room again the boys were sitting. Or well, De was sitting and Sam was mostly sprawled against his side, head pillowed on his chest. Dean took the chair and stared at the TV and tried to remind himself that even feeling a little sad and jealous, this world was still better than the one he’d been stuck in for so long.

-=-=-=-

The beginning of the next week Dean started working in the shop. De had told him they’d been thinking about hiring another person to help so really his appearance was perfect timing. It wasn’t really hard work - Sam had drawn a map and pinned it up in the back of the shop that said exactly where each section of books were, but mostly Dean went around and put back books that customers had left out.

He was a little surprised that they had as many customers as they did. Most of them were locals, greeting De and Sam with warm smiles and cheerfully shaking his hand as he was introduced. It didn’t take long to figure out that the town folk didn’t know Sam and De were related, that they simply accepted them as partners. Dean suspected Bobby’s influence went a long way to protect them from people who might not look so kindly upon gay couples.

Things were normal. Really normal. So much so, that Dean was starting to feel a little antsy. Every day was the same - open the shop at nine, close at six, watch movies or go out to dinner or go visit Bobby. Dean didn’t know how to live a normal life; even after the Croates had come he was always heading out for supply runs, driving hundreds of miles just to get by.

The shop was closed on Sundays and De and Sam must have seen some of the unease rippling through Dean because they all loaded into the car and drove three hours to a bigger town, and just feeling the movement of the wheels beneath him was soothing. De explained that he’d been the same in the beginning, how sometimes he and Sam drove until they hit the Rockies and camped for the night, and how it faded with time.

Dean was surprised - pleasantly so - when they pulled up to a shooting range. Sure, it wasn’t hunting things, it wasn’t what he’d always thought he’d do until he died, but it was good. Dean was more than amused when he shot better than De and Sam, and he kept the target paper just to have something to gloat about for a while.

Sometimes Dean felt like they treated him like a little kid they’d adopted, like taking him to a diner decorated in ‘50’s get up, where their waitress was named Lucille and their milkshakes were large enough to come out in the big glass and a metal tin.

Dean hadn’t thought much about his behavior being unusual, in fact he felt like he was doing better at not being paranoid and looking every direction he could whenever they went somewhere, but De cleared his throat while they waited for their burgers and he knew something was up.

“You didn’t even look at her,” De noted, his voice pretend casual.

Dean frowned and sucked the thick milkshake from his straw before releasing with a pop. “Who?”

“The waitress.” Sam also had the pretend casual flow to his voice, though he looked a little more uncomfortable than De.

Turning, Dean looked over at the waitress then back at De and Sam. “Uh, am I supposed to be seeing something?”

“She’s hot!” De pointed out with a laugh, shaking his head. “And you call me gay.”

“What?” Dean glanced toward the girl and yeah, she was hot, but it didn’t seem weird that he hadn’t paid attention to that. “So, she’s hot. What’s the big deal?”

“See, I told you,” Sam huffed and shook his head. “Don’t worry Dean, it’s nothing. De here just seemed to think you were getting antsy because you wanted... you know, and you couldn’t really get it with us around all the time.”

Dean blinked at them both, surprised more by the fact that he hadn’t even considered that than for De suggesting it. “Uh, no. I’m still getting used to everything, I don’t really want to hook up with anyone.”

And well, how could he, really? He saw Sam every day. They talked and laughed and got along in a way that he never really had with his Sam. Dean was feeling… things, and sleeping with someone else seemed an impossibility for now. Until he got over it. Or until he lost his mind, whichever came first.

-=-=-=-

At first when he woke, Dean wasn’t sure why. It was still dark and he didn’t feel like he was being watched or anything. Then he heard it, the low moan through the wall, and his entire body tensed. He’d never heard them having sex before, though he knew they had to have a pretty active sex life because they were _always_ smiling and glowing and grinning at each other at breakfast.

Dean could come up with a variety of reasons why he heard them now. Maybe their position was such that De couldn’t silence Sam - or vice versa - he couldn’t quite tell who was moaning. Maybe they were trying something new and it was particularly pleasing. Or maybe one of them had been gagged all the other nights and this time they hadn’t used whatever it was that gagged them.

The next moan was louder and followed shortly by the gasped, “Dean.” And Dean knew Sam wasn’t moaning for _him_ but his body responded like he was. Heat pulsed though him so fast he felt the rush of it through his system, making him shudder softly.

Whatever De was doing seemed to be _very_ good because Sam’s moans continued to get louder, interrupted occasionally by the loud thud of the headboard against the wall. Dean couldn’t resist it, he couldn’t stop himself from slipping a hand under his boxers and stroking quickly.

He closed his eyes and thought about the warm smile Sam always seemed to have now. He thought about the quiet laugh meant only for De in their private moments, and how gentle and sweet Sam was with customers, always ready to offer recommendations and assistance. As Dean quickened the stroke, the squeeze of his hand, he thought about the man Sam had become and how he was _proud_ , even if this wasn’t his real brother and he’d failed his own Sam.

Then, after Dean had come in intense, blinding waves and Sam’s moans had completely faded away, Dean thought about how easy it had been to switch his feelings from his own Sam to this one. If someone had asked him two weeks ago, when he was preparing his battle plan to take down Lucifer, if he still loved his brother in that _wrong_ way Dean would have easily said no.

Now? It appeared that those feelings weren’t so easily dismissed because he was falling - had fallen - for this Sam and it was almost like the second chance he wouldn’t be allowed to take.

-=-=-=-

“Sam, can I ask you something?” Dean turned from the box of books he’d been sorting and looked at the man, smiling at the strands of hair that fell across his face as he leaned over his laptop.

“Shoot,” Sam muttered, distracted by the spreadsheets he’d been working on for as long as Dean had been back in the storage room.

“With you and De, who- uh, you know. Who tops?” Dean moved books from one pile to another, knowing he’d have to go back and look at them because he was far too out of it to be paying attention.

“Wow. Um, well,” Sam laughed nervously and turned to him, rubbing along his jaw. “De, usually. We switch up every now and then but mostly him.”

Dean had suspected as much, considering Sam’s moans the night before and well, he knew De. The idea of being fucked - especially by Sam - wasn’t all together unappealing but handing over that control was a lot to ask of him. “And so, you guys do, everything?”

Sam laughed and stood, leaning back against the table beside Dean. “Yeah, we do everything. Are you really asking me questions about De and my sex life?”

“Have you suddenly gone deaf?” Dean shot back defensively, his shoulders slumping when he looked over and found Sam still just smiling at him. “I was just wondering.”

“Because, you felt the same. You had the same feelings for me - or for your Sam - before everything happened?” Sam’s smile turned soft and sympathetic and he reached out, laying his hand on Dean’s forearm. “What happened? Why didn’t you two get back together?”

“You - he, he called. It was after he took off, after he let Lucifer out and I found out everything about Ruby and all the blood, and he left. And I just let him go, didn’t try and stop him, didn’t call. I was hurt, I couldn’t figure out how being with a demon was easier than being with me. So when he called, I just said no. Guess I thought it would be better, that he could just get out of it and have a good life. I should have known better.” Dean smiled wryly up at Sam and shrugged before looking away.

“Dean, I know it probably doesn’t mean much, because I’m not him and all that, but it wasn’t that.” Sam sighed, continuing when Dean simply stared at him once more. “It wasn’t me choosing Ruby over you. I honestly, truly, thought I was doing the right thing. I know trusting a demon was stupid but I just thought- she just said it would be over, you know? She said if I did all of that, that you and I would be free of everything.”

“You think my Sam felt the same?” Dean asked, though it wasn’t related to Sam’s words at all. He couldn’t really go there, not now, maybe not ever.

“About the Ruby thing? Sure. You and De have mostly the same thoughts and ideas, excluding the last five years.” Sam shrugged, taking his hand away and dropping it to the side. “If he was at all like me, he would have done anything to get you to take him back after that conversation on the phone.”

“I don’t mean about that,” Dean said quietly, half stepping toward Sam and wetting his lips. “I mean, like you and De. Do you think he felt that way, too?”

“Oh.” Sam’s lips parted for a moment and he stared at Dean as if seeing him through a whole new light. “Same logic. We felt the same things. So, yeah.”

“Because you’ve liked me for a while?” Dean asked in almost a whisper, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip slowly.

Sam’s eyes widened for a moment and he reached out as if to push Dean away but instead his fingers curled over Dean’s hip. “Basically my whole life.”

They were so close, Sam still leaning back against the table while Dean’s left hip rested against his right. Part of Dean felt - and knew - that they shouldn’t. But it was confusing logic if you tried to figure it out. Would Sam be cheating on De if he kissed Dean, even if they virtually were the same person? “I never got to have it,” Dean whispered, blinking up at Sam. “All those years I wanted you. I tried to fill that void with people and drinking but it never worked because it wasn’t you.”

For a few moments Sam swayed toward him, their lips almost brushing, but at the last moment Sam turned and kissed his cheek instead. “It wasn’t me,” Sam whispered, his voice a little hoarse. “I’m sorry Dean, that you didn’t get to have that, I really am. But I can’t... Dean, _my_ Dean, is the most important thing to me. And I can’t fuck it up.”

Dean felt the sting of rejection like he’d never felt before and he stepped back, breaking free of Sam’s touch. “Yeah. Sorry. It was stupid.” He shook his head and turned, heading out of the room because he had to, because it was too hard to breathe when he was in there with Sam and so close to what he would never have.

He ignored De calling out to him as he headed up the stairs, not stopping until the door of his room was closed. It was foolish to think he’d never get to this point, where his feelings would be too strong to stand. Maybe it shouldn’t have happened so fast but Dean felt a little like he’d been cut off his tether and was just drifting through space, and though he desperately wanted to latch onto something, there was no room for him here.

Pacing around the room, Dean tried to think of how far he might get if he just left how. It didn’t matter where he went, because staying here just didn’t seem like an option anymore.

Especially if Sam told De what he’d almost done.

-=-=-=-

Dean knew he had to go, just like he knew he couldn’t leave until both Sam and De were asleep. He needed a full night to get a head start and hopefully they wouldn’t spend too much time looking for him. Dean could do what he knew how to do, which was hunt, and Sam and De would have their lives back to normal.

To keep up the charade that everything was okay, Dean forced himself to head out to the kitchen for dinner but when he heard the muffled voices and he stopped. Eavesdropping was turning into a regular past time, it seemed.

“Well, what do we say?” Sam asked in a quiet, almost urgent whisper.

Dean could just imagine what they were discussing - maybe the best ways to suggest he go off and live somewhere else. Dean could stay with Bobby maybe. At least then he’d be doing some hunting, staying productive.

“You like him more than me,” De muttered but there was a definite note of something teasing followed by a smack - that Dean figured was Sam smacking his brother. “It’d be complicated, Sam. I know you’ve- look I get it, and I feel the same in a weird way. Just, how do you even tell a person something like this?’

“The same way you told me? We can make it happen,” Sam murmured and Dean knew that voice well. He was eager for something, he was trying to talk Dean into whatever it was that they were discussing.

Had Dean freaked Sam out that much? That he was that eager to get rid of Dean? Pursing his lips, Dean braced his shoulders and headed out into the kitchen. “Look you don’t have to tell me anything, I get it. I pushed the lines and I- I’ll just go, okay?”

De and Sam looked up toward him with wide eyes, then looked at each other, then back at him. “Where are you going?” Sam asked finally, stepping toward him.

“I don’t know, Bobby’s? Away. It’s too much for me to be here and I fuckin’ get it so just, let’s not make a big production out of it.” Dean rolled his eyes, turning to head for the stairs. Yeah, he didn’t have any of his stuff but who cared? It wasn’t like he came with a lot of stuff anyway, he could get more later.

But he didn’t make it to the stairs. Instead, in the next moment he was gripped hard by the wrist and spun, pushed back hard enough against the wall that all the air rushed out of his lungs. Dean had a moment to stare into his own emerald eyes before lips were descending on his.

Weirder things had happened in his life than being kissed by himself, and actually it just proved the point that Dean had been trying to insist upon for years. He was a _great_ kisser. The gentle slide of a tongue, plump lips parted against his own, a leg tucking between his own and rolling up. Dean couldn’t help groaning into the kiss and rocking back against that thigh, his hands sliding back into thick brown hair just as he’d seen Sam do before.

“Jesus.” Speaking of Sam, the man’s voice was incredibly close, the word falling out as a hissed swear. Apparently, seeing his brother kiss his “identical twin” was doing a number on Sam.

De’s tongue plunged forward and mapped along every inch of his mouth and Dean didn’t have much of a choice but to let him, free hand clutching his shoulder. De’s hands were passing through his hair, along his neck, and then another hand was slipping under his shirt, passing over his abs and pushing up to tweak over his nipples.

The rush of sensation was enough to have him jerking back from the kiss, his eyes fluttering open as he inhaled. “What’s...”

“We want you here,” Sam explained softly, his hand stroking the back of De’s hair as the man began to kiss along Dean’s neck. “We want you with us.”

Like everything else that had happened, Dean’s mind was struggling to grasp what was being offered to him. They wanted him? Why would anyone want him? “But what about...”

“Shh, stop, just accept it,” Sam murmured and then he was moving forward and their lips were coming together and Dean was finally kissing Sam.

Sure it wasn’t _his_ Sam - that time had passed, but it was still Sam and Dean moaned almost instantly into the kiss because Sam kissed better than he’d imagined. De’s lips had moved down to his chest, his hands shoving Dean’s shirt up and heslumped back against the wall as both men steadily drove his body insane.

When Sam pulled back from the kiss Dean nearly chased after him and really, he hadn’t thought he was that hard off before. “De,” Dean gasped and tapped the man on his back, licking his lips to taste the lingering hints of Sam.

De pulled back and smiled at Dean, shaking his head slowly. “Ask a thousand questions if you want but we’ll still want this. You don’t? Then say so now.”

It kind of helped sometimes that De knew how his mind worked. Dean had to know that this was okay with both of them before he could let himself have it. Now that he did know, his mind was reeling, and he pushed off the wall and grabbed both their hands. “Come on,” he muttered, dragging them down the hall to the master bedroom.

They were laughing softly, trailing along behind him and stopped just inside the room. Dean turned to them, a little taken back from their matches smiles and fond eyes. He frowned without really realizing it, his eyes drifting between the pair. “I don’t think-”

“Dean, don’t.” De stepped forward and smirked at him, pressing his fist against Dean’s head in a not so gentle tap. “You’re getting all, _I’m not worth it_ , but you seem to forget that we’re you’re family. For whatever the reason, you’re with us now, and we’re not going to just let you fall away.”

“And this is really okay? With both of you?” Dean looked toward Sam because he remembered being pushed away before, and with how badly he wanted Sam, he couldn’t just have it, only to have Sam change his mind.

“It’s really okay,” Sam murmured, stepping forward to slide his arm over De’s shoulder. “I made De have a whole conversation regarding the subject - we talked it all out - he hated it but we did what we had to.”

The grin on Sam’s face was infectious and Dean found himself matching it, slowly nodding his head. “Okay, alright. Let’s- yeah, let’s do- you know.”

“He’s so charming,” De snorted through a laugh and stepped forward, grabbing Dean by the belt loop and tugging him forward. He pressed up against Dean and kissed up his jaw, lips sliding down over his ear. “I’m the only one that gets to fuck Sam, that’s the only rule,” De murmured, his tone laced with a possessive claim that Dean knew all too well.

Considering Dean never expected any of this to happen, he was fine with agreeing to any terms. His fingers curled over De’s hip and clenched tight as he turned to whisper in De’s ear as well. “Does that mean I get to fuck you?”

Truthfully, Dean wasn’t sure he’d want to fuck De, because that would be like fucking himself and that was still a little weird. Maybe in the future though, if this thing continued to work out. De laughed and slid back, his hand moving along Dean’s jeans until he could flick the button open. “We’ll see.”

“You two whispering is rather worrisome,” Sam noted with that lingering grin, laughing when they both turned toward him and smirked at the same time. “Oh god, I’m getting in over my head, aren’t I?”

“Don’t worry Sammy, we’re gonna take good care of you,” De said through a leer and he caught Sam around the middle and tugged him in so their lips could graze together.

Dean watched them kiss and his breath hitched. There was something to be said about the differences of seasoned lovers and new ones. Watching Sam and De kiss up close was one of the hottest things he'd ever seen.

Just as he was beginning to enjoy it though, they were breaking apart and turning to him. Sam smiled softly and stepped in, once more kissing him and leaving him breathless. It was so much - almost too much after so many years of a deep void. As Sam's tongue slid forward De's hand moved between them.

The soft click of a zipper being pulled down echoed in the room with Dean’s moan and Sam’s soft answering one. The pressure in Dean’s jeans released and he groaned in relief, shifting back slightly so De would have room to push his jeans down. Sam’s hands slid up under his shirt, the kiss breaking for a moment as Sam tugged the shirt off and threw it to the side. His own shirt followed a moment later before their lips were pressing together once more.

De’s palm slid across the front of his briefs, rubbing slowly before he was pulling the material down and letting it drop to the floor. Dean stepped out of the clothing, breathing deep through his nose but not breaking from the kiss. He didn’t want to stop kissing Sam, not as long as he could.

Hands tangling in Sam’s hair, Dean kept him close and half-listened to the sound of Sam’s jeans falling to the floor, as well. When Sam’s lips fell from his, their foreheads rolled together and Dean looked down, his gaze drifting from De’s hand lifting to curl around Sam’s cock and stroke slowly then to his other hand, curling around Dean’s cock a moment later. De stroked both cocks in unison, twisting and stroking like he’d done this before, like he knew exactly how to please two men at once.

Dean thought about asking if De and Sam had done this before, brought a third to their bed, but he kept the question buried. He’d ask later, when he wasn’t watching De slide his tongue out and over Sam’s cock, slipping around the head like he’d never tasted anything better. Then he was turning to Dean, looking up at him for a long moment before sliding his tongue over the forming drop of pre-come.

Groaning, Dean instantly rocked up into the heat of De’s mouth, his hands falling from Sam’s hair and slipping through De’s hair instead. De was quick to suck him all the way down, not stopping until he had all of Dean’s cock buried deep in his mouth, sucking all the way to the base like a pro. Dean’s head fell back and Sam’s lips instantly moved over his skin, sucking in all the right spots because he already knew how Dean’s body worked.

“Jesus, you two,” Dean moaned and slid his free hand up into Sam’s hair, holding him against his neck. He wasn’t sure how long he’d survive the rippling waves of pleasure; staying upright was proving to be more of a challenge than he’d originally thought.

De seemed to know exactly when he couldn’t take anymore because he pulled off and stood, shoving his jeans off a moment later and stepped toward Sam. Dean watched through unfocused eyes as they kissed, sharing the taste of him, their tongues meeting in the open space between their lips.

He stumbled back to the bed, dropping down and pushing back until he could lay down. He just needed a moment to get his head to stop spinning. Before he could manage that though the bed was dipping on either side of him and suddenly he was surrounded by heat. Sam's lips moved over his chest, down to graze along his cock. Just as he was about to moan, De was there, kissing him deep and thorough.

Right at that moment it was all about him, these two men - his brothers - devoting all their attention to making him feel as amazing as possible.

It was working, too; he was losing himself in the feel of De's tongue against his own and Sam's mouth swallowing him down. His hips rocked up into Sam’s mouth and the man simply took it, swallowing each time so that Dean could feel the rippling sensation over his cock. Fingers were roaming everywhere over his body, too many for Dean to keep track.

He simply felt them in peaking moments, like the deep grind into his hip and the pulling tug at his nipple. When De finally pulled back from the kiss, Dean sucked in a deep breath, arching up into Sam’s mouth. De began to crawl down his body and Sam lifted off him, only his tongue left running over his skin. There was a pause and then suddenly two tongues moved over his cock. Dean could feel them passing together, could hear their echoing moans, and his senses overloaded.

Once more De was pulling back just before he was about to lose it and the _almost but not enough_ was maddening. Sam and De moved with familiar grace, sliding up the bed at his side.

"Sit up," Sam instructed even as he spread his own legs as De moved in behind him along the foot of the bed.

Dean slowly moved back, watching De grab some lube from his nightstand. Dean sat against the headboard and Sam shifted over onto his hands and knees, one hand coming to rest on either side of Dean’s hips. He learned forward and captured Dean’s lips against his own, moaning into the kiss, though Dean had a feeling it was more De behind him that was bringing the noises out of him. He had, after all, heard just how much De could make Sam moan.

Sam pulled back from the kiss to moan a few minutes later, slumping against Dean’s neck as De moved forward from behind him. Dean stared over Sam’s shoulder at De, watching the pleasure darken his face as he buried himself deep within his lover. Dean felt Sam grip his thigh tightly, adjusting to the pressure and width deep within him.

Lifting a hand, Dean stroked through Sam’s hair, soothing him as he took his time getting used to the stretch. Sam looked up as De first began to move and Dean expected their lips to come together again but Sam dropped down to his elbows instead. De hissed, as the new position must have tightened around him and Dean looked up, only to find himself hissing as well.

Sam’s mouth sank down over his cock, popping in time with the slow pace of De fucking into him. Sam’s body moved back into each thrust and he moaned around Dean in his mouth, taking him in even further. Watching them fuck, being close enough to hear the sounds of their bodies slapping together and their moans was the last straw for Dean.

He tugged on Sam’s hair, calling out a warning but the man simply pressed down hard and Dean came in his mouth, hips jerking up to work through each wave of his release. He slumped back against the headboard, panting roughly as he watched De continue to fuck Sam who was still sprawled in his lap, nose brushing over his thigh.

Sam’s hands tightened on Dean’s hips, holding on as De’s pace increased, his eyes falling closed as his head tipped back. Dean watched through half-lidded eyes as De bent down and wrapped his arm around Sam’s middle, his hand stroking Sam to pull him over the edge. Moments later Dean felt the hot jets of Sam’s release on his legs, and the noise strangled from Sam’s mouth was hot enough to have him moaning softly as well.

De stilled a moment later, moaning just as loudly through his orgasm until he was slumping over, both lovers collapsing onto Dean’s legs. Dean chuckled softly and stroked his hand down Sam’s back, then back up through De’s hair. He had to admit he could definitely get used to the long-haired version of himself, not that he’d be growing his own hair out, but he could support De wearing it that way.

Some time later, De pulled free and climbed off the bed as Dean tugged Sam up, scooting over to the edge of the bed and pulling until Sam’s head was on the pillow. Dean made to climb off the bed and head to his room but Sam clutched his arm, holding him tight in place.

“Sam?” Dean asked quietly, shifting down to look into the man’s half-opened eyes.

“Where you going?” Sam grumbled, tugging his arm even more.

“What Sam means to say is, we want you to stay in here with us,” De explained as he came back in the room with a wash rag, grinning at Dean as he cleaned off the come lingering on him from Sam’s release.

Dean swallowed against a wall of emotion and he nodded, sliding under the blanket as De walked around the bed and cleaned Sam up as well. Dean helped Sam under the blankets and then laid there on his back, unsure exactly what was standard protocol for these two when it came to laying down in bed for sleep.

Sam chuckled softly and wrapped an arm around Dean’s middle, rolling him on his side side so that he faced Sam. De’s arm was already around Sam’s middle and as Dean moved his legs tangled with someone’s, more than one set- god it was impossible to tell. He kind of didn’t hate it though, so that was something.

“We’re gonna need a bigger bed,” De mumbled, his voice coming from the back of Sam’s neck where he’d buried his face.

Dean smirked softly, letting his arm come to rest above De’s over Sam’s waist. “Do they make bigger beds?”

Both men laughed softly at that and the feeling Dean had been struggling with, the one where he’d been drifting through nothing with no one to hold him down? It ebbed away slowly; maybe he’d finally found a place to belong.

-=-=-=-

Once their threeway relationship began it seemed only normal that this was what they would have together. Everything came so naturally it nearly shocked Dean. He woke in the morning, sometimes curled around Sam, sometimes with both men curled around him, and one time with De curled around him, which had caused him to laugh the moment he woke up. They all navigated easily around each other during breakfast, Dean being stopped on more than one occasion when Sam or De kissed him.

It was a thing they did, randomly catching him through the day - in the shop if none of the customers were there and in the back room if they were - pulling him in and kissing him. When Dean asked about it they would explain with smiles that it had taken years to break down the hard shell they had both built up from a lifetime of hunting and they were just working on doing the same for Dean.

Sometimes that made Dean want to run, like the softer, more adjusted life was too much for him to take. Mostly though, it made him want to get to that point, so he could smile and laugh as easily as Sam and De did.

Bobby had no luck finding anything that had the power to pull a person from one universe to another, which wasn’t much of a surprise, really. Dean didn’t expect that there were many references in books about this kind of thing happening very often, if at all. It bothered Dean a little, not knowing why he’d been brought here or whether he’d just randomly disappear some time without any warning. But it was worth all the risks, in the long run.

It was a month after Dean’s appearance that they got their answer.

They were on the couch, De along the arm, Sam sprawled over his lap, Dean tucked along the other side of him, all watching the fifth Mission Impossible movie. Dean was just making a joke about Tom Cruise needing a wheel chair when there was a sudden flutter of wings. He was up before Sam and De, his instincts still stronger but he’d barely taken a step forward when he stopped, realizing it was Castiel.

Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam and De who didn’t seem nearly as surprised to see him as Dean was. “Did you two forget to tell me we were expecting a visitor?”

“Cas is one of the few beings that can get in here,” De explained, nudging Sam up and pausing the movie. “You don’t really think we’d leave the place unwarded, do you?”

Well no, of course not; De wouldn’t put Sam at risk like that but honestly he’d never really thought about it. Looking back at the angel, Dean frowned slightly. “I called for you.”

“I know, I apologize Dean, I was unable to answer you at the time,” Castiel said and though he had expected the angel to be more calm and flat than the one he’d lived with for years, Dean still found himself a little taken back by the complete lack of emotion in the words. “Sam, Dean, you are well?”

“Doing fine Cas, what’s up?” Sam came to stand beside Dean, not touching but closer than normal.

“I simply came to check on this Dean’s adjustment to this world,” Castiel explained as he gestured to Dean.

De joined them, his lips turned down in a frown. “Are you saying you knew he was here?”

“Of course, I brought him here.” Castiel nodded as if this should be common knowledge. “You were not aware?”

“Well, it’s not like you left me with an instructional note,” Dean snapped, arms sliding over his chest. “How they hell did you even know I existed?”

There was just the slightest downward tilt of Castiel’s lips as he considered the three of them. “It is… complicated. I was made aware - as the power level continued to shift in Heaven - that your contaminated universe had been created, Dean, meant as a tool by Zachariah to scare this Dean into allowing Michael his body as a vessel. Dean did not succumb, yet the alternate universe was not destroyed. I became aware of another version of myself, and consequently another version of Dean. I was unable to save Sam, as Lucifer had already taken him, but I brought Dean here to you.”

Dean blinked a few times, trying to wrap his mind around the logic of Castiel’s explanation. He looked over at Sam, whose mouth was slightly open, and then to his right at De, who looked just as confused. “What?” He finally asked, a faint laugh falling from his lips.

“Perhaps it is too great a story for lesser beings to comprehend,” Castiel suggested, looking between them once more. “You are compatible together?”

Sam snorted and Dean elbowed him. De laughed quietly and nodded. “Yeah, we’re compatible. Thanks for uh, bringing him from that universe?”

“I was unaccustomed to allowing Dean of any form to succumb to death.” Castiel nodded then, and with another soft whoosh he disappeared, leaving them with one hell of a story they couldn’t begin to understand.

“Well.” Dean cleared his throat and shrugged, heading back from the couch. “Guess that means I’m not going anywhere.” He dropped down on the middle cushion, waiting to see where the other two would sit to adjust his position.

De and Sam looked at each other then ran forward, both jumping on either side of the couch and pressing against him. Dean laughed as they fought for who got to lay in his lap. Being stuck here was something Dean could certainly be okay with.

~End

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Like My Own](https://archiveofourown.org/works/507550) by [anyothergirl415](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415)




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